


Sweet Thing

by QCumberShaw



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Watching, because I love this song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QCumberShaw/pseuds/QCumberShaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A self indulgent piece of nothing very much, because I was listening to this earlier and I thought they might like it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet Thing by Van Morrison from Astral Weeks, probably one of the best albums ever. 
> 
>  
> 
> And I say that as a rather more hardcore alternative indie music fan.
> 
>  
> 
> Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QzDWIOUnM0

The door was ajar, so he didn’t knock. He put his head into the gap, hand on the frame, about to speak, stopping instead and smiling. Q was sitting, no, reclining gracefully in his chair, head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth moving noiselessly. Then he noticed the white earbuds leading to the phone on the table. Bond watched as he paused, no doubt the previous track had ended, then his fingers started to move and he began humming, still tuneful despite the earpieces.

 

He watched his face, fascinated, as he listened. It was obviously a song he loved. Bond straightened up, silently, moving to rest on the door frame as he continued to observe. He started to sing softly and Bond strained to catch the words, they seemed familiar.

 

He knew he should knock or cough to announce his presence, but he couldn’t take his eyes off him. This wasn’t new, but he’d never had such an opportunity to study him off guard before.

 

As usual, his hair was tousled. Tousled, such a lovely word and so apt for Q. It begged to have fingers run through it and Bond would be more than happy to oblige.

 

He suppressed a sigh as he watched his lips move, as his tongue licked them. They were so red, slightly wet where his tongue had been, a tuft of dry skin from where he bit them, constantly. He wanted that tongue and those lips on his.

 

His collar was unbuttoned now, at the end of the day when most of the department had gone home and his red tie was pulled askew, his façade relaxed. The slight v of skin that was revealed was shaded, a deep hollow that Bond wanted to kiss. The rest of his throat gleamed pale, the muscles defined in the light, open and vulnerable.

 

He finally caught the lyrics as he stared, recognising the song, and his mind filled in the music to accompany them and he wanted to sweep him into his arms. It one of his favourites, it always made his heart ache with longing and love. The whole album burnt through his traditional reserves, allowing him to lose himself and it seemed to be doing the same for Q. Bond smiled at him, listening to him sing, his voice was lovely and he was lost, the emotions of the words flickering across his face and his voice becoming stronger as he was caught up in the song. 

 

He’d taken off his glasses and his dark lashes fluttered with his hidden eye movements. They were never still, never resting in Bond for long, he smiled to himself, unless they were scowling, mildly, at his inability to return equipment. That was when he looked at him and…when he returned from missions. Intact. The reprimands were more like relief he realised, but he had never said.

 

Q had infiltrated his mind from the beginning, but he’d not realised that at the time, hindsight and all that. Then he found that he’d begun watching every time he was back from a mission, testing careful limits when he flirted on the comms, wondering if he was as interested, wanting him to know that he wouldn’t be another conquest. 

 

His hands were moving more rapidly as the tempo of the song increased, his fingers fluttering the beat, holding the arm of the chair as his body swayed it, swiveling slightly as his hips joined in. He knew the song about to end and looked up at his eyes as they opened. There was no startle. His irises dilated and held his gaze.

 

“Hello, Q.”

 

“Hello, James. I was just thinking about you.”


End file.
